The Emerging

by Tanya Allan

  “Don’t you dare speak to me like that; I’m your father!”

  “Well, you’ve done a crap job so far. Close the door on your way out. I don’t think either of us needs to say any more; do you?” Kenneth said, keeping his back to his father and picking up his history text book.

  Silently, after staring at his son’s back for several moments, Graham realised that he had lost whatever respect his son had for him. He retreated, quietly closing the door behind him.

  After another large whisky, he left to meet Stephanie. Watching his Mercedes leave the drive, Kenneth called the police.

  “Hello, is that the police? I think my Dad is driving under the influence and might kill someone!”

  “Yes, it’s a brand new Mercedes and he’s heading towards Bourne End.”

  “Do I have a registration number? Yes, as it happens I do, and I also know where he’s headed.”

  After furnishing all the relevant information, Kenneth sat back and became Keira again.

  “Right, that’s sorted them. Now we can concentrate on my bloody exams!”

  Richard Myers almost had to use bodily force to get his son from the car and into the clinic.

  It had been a nightmare week for the family. Roddy had been at his worst. Temper tantrums, sulks, violent outbursts had marked the first day of his suspension. On day two, Caroline Myers had taken Natalie to go and see her parents in Wiltshire, notifying her school that there was a family emergency. It was a private school, and so they didn’t quibble.

  That left Richard and his son together by themselves. Roddy was a big lad; but Richard was bigger and knew how to fight.

  He hoped they wouldn’t have to, but on day three, Roddy erupted into a violent rage and Richard had to restrain him the only way he knew; with a well placed punch.

  When Roddy came round, he burst into tears and had yet to stop sobbing after another couple of days, except when he poured his heart out to his father in a constant stream of woe, interspersed with bouts of sobbing and self-pity.

  Richard was at a complete loss as to how to deal with what came from his son. It seemed that that kid Roddy had hit was on the button when he suggested what he thought might be the problem.

  Through the tears and hysterics, Richard discovered that Roddy knew he was gay and had fought the feelings ever since they first surfaced when he was about eleven. For five years he lived in violent denial of his feelings; becoming instead the most aggressive of homophobes.

  With a mother he had not seen for eight years, and knowing that his father had voiced his strong feelings against anyone who was different in sexual orientation, to the point of stating that he believed they all should be exterminated, the boy was left with little choice if he was to meet his father’s approval.

  “But why attack that kid; what’s his name?” Richard asked.

  “Kenneth,” supplied Roddy. “I don’t really know.”

  “He suggested it might be because you like him and that makes you react in anger because of your denial,” said Richard.

  To his surprise, instead of an angry retort, Roddy had simply nodded.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  Richard came to a point where he really had no idea how to deal with Roddy and his problems. He called Mr Pettifer for advice.

  “There is a psychologist I know who runs a clinic that specialises in psychological traumas. They deal with all kinds of issues, including gender confusion and sexual problems.”

  Richard gratefully took Dr Anne Dobson’s number and rang her as soon as he put the phone down on the Headmaster.

  Her secretary answered, and he was offered an appointment that every evening. He took it.

  “Get in the car, we’re going to see a specialist,” he told Roddy.

  “What sort of specialist?”

  “A doctor who might just be able to help you.”

  “I don’t want to see a doctor.”

  “What then? Do you want to stay in your room for the next forty years?”

  Roddy had moaned and groaned, but he had got in the car. He moaned and groaned on the way, and when they arrived, displaying extreme reluctance to exit the car.

  However, Richard was able to pry him from the car and eventually sat with him in the doctor’s consulting room as Dr Dobson regarded them both from behind her desk. Roddy stared at his feet.

  “Mr Myers, would you like to go and ask the receptionist for a coffee or something, and give me a little time with Roddy by himself?”

  Richard glanced at his son, but when the boy didn’t react, he stood up and complied with her suggestion.

  Alone with the morose boy, Anne came around from her side of the desk and sat in the now vacant chair next to Roddy.

  “Right, Roddy, dad’s gone, so it’s just you and me. Now, for me to be able to help you, and I believe that I can, we need to have an understanding. The first rule is one of basic manners; if I ask you a question, the polite thing is to answer that question; can you do that for me?”

  Roddy looked up and nodded.

  “Now, can we go one step further and try to use the voice? Silence is not a good way to initiate any form of dialogue.”

  “Okay,” he said, with belligerence heavy in his tone.

  Anne raised an eyebrow.

  “Now, that’s not a good start. I don’t know what your problem is, but we need to be able to talk to each other without the trappings of sulks, huffs, moods and temper. If you want me to help you, then we have to agree that this is a two-way exchange, and I, sure as eggs is eggs, will not go any further if I am to deal with a stroppy child who wants his own way. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, I suppose the first question is where to begin? Why don’t you tell me why you think you are here?”

  After ten minutes, Anne was almost regretting encouraging the taciturn child to talk to her. Now her problem seemed to be how to shut him up! She had only asked one question and he was still going. His answer was without form or logical form; instead it was an outpouring of a very confused and frustrated teenager with serious sexual and emotional issues.

  She correctly identified serious markers that, if not dealt with, could indicate that this young man was a likely candidate to become a prolific sexual predator and offender; even becoming a potential serial stalker and possible killer.

  Within his initial rant, for that is clearly what it was, Anne confirmed that this was indeed the young man who had assaulted Kenneth.

  These two boys were as different as one could get, and she sighed wearily. This one was going to give her sleepless nights!

  It took all the allotted appointment time to calm the boy down and to get some idea as to what lay at the root of his problems. It appeared that his father’s high expectations and hard attitude towards anything remotely ‘queer’ had imprinted deeply into his son’s psyche. So, then he began to realise that he was attracted to other males, his psyche rebelled against his feelings and created an inner conflict that manifested in violent aggressive acts towards anyone that was either of a slightly camp appearance, or to whom he was attracted.

  Poor Kenneth Frost had a foot in both of those camps.

  She smiled at the thought of that very bad pun.

  “Okay Roddy; how do you think Kenneth feels at being on the receiving end of what must be years of abusive behaviour by you?”

  “He must hate me.”

  “I think that might be one emotion, can you think of any others?”

  “Fear?”

  “Possibly, although he seems brave enough to stand up to you and to return some of the abuse. Someone who feared you might have walked away. Why do you think you reacted the way you did when he stood up to you the other day?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Could it be that part of you felt conflicted in the way you spoke to him?”

  He shrugged.

  “I was just angry.”

  “Was it towards Kenneth you felt the anger, or
to yourself?”

  “A bit of both?” he asked, as if unsure.

  “I don’t know, Roddy, as I wasn’t there. Is making your father proud of you important?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think he’s feeling right now?”

  “I dunno.”

  “If you were in his shoes, what would you feel?”

  “Disgust at having a queer son.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Hates me for being a bully?”

  “Ah; we’re getting somewhere. So, if he’s feeling disgust and hatred, why has he come here with you and not beaten you up or locked you in your room?”

  Roddy blinked several times without speaking.

  “You see, I rather think that he loves you because of being his son. He might not understand about being gay, and might even have strong opinions about being gay, which does not mean he is right, but for the moment, what matters is that you being gay is not an issue for him. If it’s not an issue for him, why should it be an issue for you?

  Roddy simply stared at her, looking surprised.

  “This queer versus straight thing is a fallacy. Nothing is black and white as our society would like us think. There are people who fluctuate between being attracted to the opposite gender and then towards person of their own gender. You’ve heard of school girl crushes on older girls and female teachers?”

  “Yes.”

  “It happens to boys too. Some boys need to affirm their admiration in a sexual manner. It could be that they want to dominate others, to show they are more assertive, and it sends confused messages to the brain. Others, particularly those who might have had a weak or absent male presence in their lives, can seek affirmation from older or more assertive men. You can have a child who has several brothers and sisters, brought up in a loving home by two balanced parents, but one of the children might be gay, and no one knows why. For some, it’s a passing fad that changes as they grow older; for others, it’s more permanent. Nothing is carved in stone, and all people are different. One’s sexual orientation doesn’t make you any less of a person; if you look back in history, some of the giants in just about every aspect of human achievement have been gay.

  “Now, start from this point; your father is sufficiently concerned about you to bring you here, probably knowing that I am not in the business of ‘curing’ anyone of their sexual orientation. What I do is help both the patient and their loved ones come to terms with whatever they are and give them the necessary desire to be useful members of a society that is often very cruel and unkind towards anyone that might not come up to what they think is normal. Your sexual orientation is secondary to who you are, as long as you choose it to be so. You can choose to be a nice person, or a nasty one, whether you are straight or gay makes no difference. But if you can’t deal with the conflict within yourself, how can you ever hope to form any relationships with anyone else?”

  “I dunno.”

  “No, neither do I. Let’s go back one; do you want to go through life knowing that others believe you to be an unpleasant person?”

  “No.”

  “So, what do you think you can do about it?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Okay, if you were your father, what do you think he wants you to do?”

  “Not be queer.”

  “Take that out of the equation for a moment. You are attending a school that has just suspended you for violence, not for being gay. You have to face the consequences of your behaviour, not your inner feelings. You agree that you feel anger and frustration, and you aren’t sure why. What is your first task?”

  “Huh?”

  “If you could wave a magic want and make something in your life go away, what would it be?”

  “Being queer.”

  “Okay; say it’s gone. You are still suspended, people still look at you and think you’re a bully, so what do you need to do?”

  “Change my behaviour?”

  “Good, but what comes before the behaviour; as the behaviour is usually only the result of what’s going on in one’s head?”

  He looked blankly at her.

  Anne sighed, as he was proving to be a tough nut to crack.

  “Life is mostly about choices. Often we make choices that are the easiest and give us an advantage of some sort. Some can be to avoid disadvantages, but a few are made for us by either other people or circumstances. Now, your behaviour towards others, particularly some boys, is governed by your attitudes. As you’ve been growing up, you have been forming attitudes. These are passed to you by your parents, their behaviours and attitudes; your peers and everyone with whom you come into contact, regardless of whether it has been a positive interaction, negative or even neutral.

  “Over the next week, until we meet again, I want you do make me a chart with three columns. In the left hand column I want you to list all what you think are your problems, as you see them, not from any other perspective. Can you think of any problems?”

  “Um, anger?”

  “Is that a problem or a result?”

  “Huh?”

  “What makes’ you angry?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure.”

  “Then you need to think about it. Any others?”

  “Aggression and violence.”

  “Again, what makes you resort to violence?”

  “Bullying, picking on people. Er, frustration, um, being attracted to boys.”

  “Okay, how do you get on with girls?”

  He shrugged.

  “Okay, I’m not that bothered.”

  “All right, is how you relate to girls a problem?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then put it down, along with anything else. Then, in the middle column, put against the problem, your attitude towards that subject. For example, against girls you might put fear or mistrust. Against bullying you could put anger, but it could be self loathing. In the last column you need to associate observable behaviour that seems to appear. So, against bullying, you have anger, and lastly violence, do you understand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good; once we have the chart, we will make a fourth column and look at why each happens that way, so look for the cause. Once we understand that, and this will mean you opening up to me and telling me everything that makes you Roddy, we should be able to help you iron out any kinks; okay?”

  The boy nodded, giving her a weak smile – the first.

  “Shall we get dad back in now?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “If you go and ask him to come in, then you go and get a drink and relax for minute, as you must be tired.”

  Richard came back in, and sat there as Anne outlined her strategy for Roddy to delve into his mind and relist on paper where things were going wrong.

  “Once we have this chart, we can explore it together, all three of us, and work out a strategy for Roddy to overcome some of his problems, and thereby remove some very negative attitudes and behaviours that are causing him the problems in the first place. One of these is your attitude towards homosexuality.”

  “Mine?” said Richard, surprised.

  “Yes. Part of the problem, in my opinion, is that you have voiced such a vehemently antagonistic attitude towards gay men that this has instilled within your son a real conflict of late. As he is increasingly finding himself attracted to boys, his knowledge of your feelings, and his own attitude that is wholly supportive of your attitude so he will meet your approval, is tearing him apart. We need you to affirm your approval of him as an individual, regardless of sexual orientation, if we are to make progress. We’re not asking you to suddenly change your spots, as I know some attitudes and values are hard to change, what I am asking you is to show unconditional love to your son, regardless of whether he is gay or straight.”

  Richard was silent for a moment.

  “So, it’s all my fault?”

  “I never said that, but your attitude is not helping things within his mind. To be honest, having a m
other who left is another factor that we will have to talk through. These are all factors, with a lot more that will only come out if he knows that you love him regardless.”

  “I do, though.”

  “Have you ever told him?”

  “Well, not in so many words.”

  “Three words, Mr Myers, just three little words; I love you. You could add, something like - ‘nothing else matters’, but that’s optional.”

  It was a very thoughtful pair who drove home that evening.

  Keira cursed as the doorbell rang. On peering through the curtains, she saw a police car on the drive. Kenneth had called the police three hours ago, so he thought nothing had come of it.

  “Shit!” she said, and became Kenneth.

  The policeman was a big man, even if he was only around twenty-three.

  “Evening, is this the residence of one Graham Frost?”

  “Yes, he’s my Dad.”

  “You’re Kenneth, yes?”

  “Yes; was he drunk?”

  “He’s been involved in a road collision a few miles down the road. He was taken to Wexham Park Hospital with a suspected fracture to the spine. They now think it’s just whiplash, but he was required to give a specimen of blood as it is strongly suspect he’d been drinking. However, he became agitated and angry and punched the officer. He’s now in Slough Police station, and he gave a specimen of breath that was double the legal limit. He’ll be held there until sober enough to charge. He will be bailed to this address to attend court next week.”

  Kenneth invited the officer in and went to the study, taking down the calendar.

  “Next week? He won’t be here next week; as he’s booked into a conference in Budapest.”

  The officer frowned.

  “But he does live here?”

  “Occasionally. He’s not been here for the last three weeks, and well, he is due to fly out in a couple of days. Did he not mention it?”

  “No, he didn’t. Is your mother at home?”

  “No, she’s shacked up with her lesbian lover down the road. I think Dad was going to see his secretary, as they’ve been having an affair for years. He certainly spends more time with her than here.”

  The policeman scratched his head.

  “For real?”